


Within the Darkness of Crimson Fire

by TruthandLies



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Dragon Mal (Disney), F/F, First Kiss, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21965929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruthandLies/pseuds/TruthandLies
Summary: Within the darkness of December, Mal discovers the magic of new love.
Relationships: Evie/Mal (Disney)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 108





	Within the Darkness of Crimson Fire

The world is dark tonight. 

Winter wind whips through the skeletal branches of winter trees, howling at the darkness. 

Mal shivers and zips her leather coat. She should be in bed. Should be in the dorm, listening to Evie’s soft, rhythmic breaths. Pretending not to listen to Evie’s soft, rhythmic breaths.

But listening to the sounds Evie makes while sleeping leads to dangerous sensations coursing through Mal’s blood.

Mal sighs. “It’s just Evie,” she whispers, tasting the words upon her tongue. But their taste seems off. Because there is no _just_ Evie. 

There’s Evie when she’s sleeping. Sleeping with puckered lips that form around breathless breaths. Her body curled like a comma, offering a space-between that would be just big enough for Mal to curl up, too.

There’s Evie when she’s awake, gazing at Mal from across classrooms of students and books, her eyes glowing gold as though she can read each of Mal’s thoughts. As though she can slip beneath Mal’s dragon skin and understand the fiery chaos Mal keeps locked inside. The chaos that has only grown since she ran to the Isle. Since she came back to Auradon. Since she became a lady of a court where she stands on the fringes, forever an outsider.

Mal’s footsteps turn to stomps. She strides across the Auradon Prep grounds, squishing the snow beneath her boots. Further and further from the dorms. Further and further from Evie.

Deep inside, her dragon stirs. Stirs in the frozen night, eager to release her flames. To break free from the shackles placed around her fiery throat by the rules of a kingdom that can never understand what it’s like to possess magic.

Mal sighs. Digs her fists into the pockets of her coat. The kingdom has been more forgiving of magic lately. Ever since Mal stopped Shrimpy from capsizing half the court with her slithering tentacles, they’ve glanced in other directions when she’s brought her dragon out to play.

“She’s guarding the kingdom,” Ben tells them, watching as Mal takes flight. Gazing out over the oceans as Mal soars in circles, flapping her dragon wings. “She’s a perfect defense. Watching out for threats.”

Because that’s what Mal is for Auradon. A villain-turned-soldier. A warrior cloaked in leather and stiletto boots.

A lady wearing the costume of a villain and wielding the heart of a dragon. She exists in a world-of-betweens.

Between moments of guarding the kingdom and moments of studying at Auradon Prep, she parades through Auradon’s streets holding Ben’s hand and waving at the people, a smile glued to her face.

As they sit between the seats of the carriage which clatters down the road, Ben leans over and whispers into her ear. “Are you happy, Mal?”

A cool sensation courses through her skin at the sensation of his breath. And in the space between heartbeats, her smile is no longer glued, but formed from the fire in her heart. “Of course.”

Ben kisses her. Kisses her with a brush of lips against lips that is warm and good, but still somehow cold. “Good.”

He leans back in his seat and waves at his people. And Mal’s smile slips, until she catches it and glues it back onto her face. A lady’s sword is her smile. And Mal knows nothing if not battles and weaponry.

Being with Ben is like stepping through a forest on a cold winter’s day. The air is clean and crisp, almost sweet, but if you stay too long, you might find yourself longing for warmth. In fleeting moments when they kiss, her dragon’s flame flares. But then he pulls away, and she is left in an uncertain reality: She is his lady. He is her king. And she must follow all the rules.

So she glues her smile onto her face. And she waves at a people who have locked most magic users on an abandoned island, and who only accept her dragon because Mal is a Warrior and her dragon is her Weapon.

Most of the time.

Sometimes, she glimpses acceptance within their eyes.

Like the night she saves the court from drowning by Shrimpy’s capsizing tentacles.

Or the day she joins Ben in hanging strands of holly-and-berries from the turrets of castles and the tops of lanterns lining Auradon’s cobblestoned streets.

On that day, Ben stands before her, pushing his hands into his pockets. The wind whips through his hair, tousling it until he looks like a little boy. “You sure you want to do it this way?”

“Of course.” Mal smooths his fingers through his hair, turning him back into a king. “How else would we soar into the skies to hang a bunch of useless Christmas decorations?”

Ben chews on a smile. “I’m just saying. We could use ladders instead.”

There’s something hidden in his voice. A quiver so small, only Mal’s dragon can hear. “Hey.” She curls her fingers around his arm. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right?”

“Yeah.” Ben’s smile tilts this way and that, finally settling on lopsided. “Of course.”

“Good.” Mal squeezes his wrist. There’s a warmth beneath her palm. A flicker of flame.

Ben laughs, and the sound is strong and clear. “All right then.” He tips his chin toward the December sky. “Carry me up into the skies, m’lady, so we might decorate our kingdom with festive cheer.”

Mal snorts. “Festive cheer? Really?”

Ben shrugs. “It is Christmastime, after all.”

Mall rolls her eyes. But she steps backward two steps on the cobblestone road and closes her eyes. Taps into the wild thing fierce within her heart – the dragon that curls its claws and flares its nostrils, readying to shoot fire across the sky. Fiery heat spreads from the center of her chest, flaring across her skin. And suddenly, she is Mal no more. She has become a beast.

She cracks open her jaw and roars, savoring the sound that rumbles from her throat. A throat that tastes like flame, like smoke and spice. Mal swallows, relishing the burn.

Ben stands before her, his eyes blown wide. “Mal?” There’s a new quiver in his voice. He trips backward a step, even as he balls his fists and holds his ground.

Internally, she sighs. _Still afraid, Ben?_ Dragon or fae, she’s only ever just been Mal. _Does he not see that?_

Ben raises a fist, then breaks it apart. His fingers trembling, he stretches his hand out to Mal.

He’s taking a risk. Burying his fear.

So Mal dips her head, as if in a bow, and breathes warm air across his knuckles.

Ben laughs. A sound he smothers with a shaky grin. “I’ll just, uh, climb on up then.”

 _Would you already?_ Mal lowers herself to her reptilian knees, allowing Ben to slide onto her back.

He wraps his arms around her neck, a little too tightly. The quiver that was present in his voice trembles through his body, shooting tremors through Mal’s skin. 

Mal bares her fangs and roars, flapping her wings to lift them both into the sky. 

Together, they soar through the cool blue world, with its chimney stacks of curly-cue smoke and its snowy rooftops glimmering with Christmas lights. The sky opens up into a cobalt landscape, with early evening stars flickering among the heavens.

Mal soars across Auradon, dipping low and fluttering her wings, offering Ben room and time to string up strands of emerald holly and crimson berries. The king’s addition to the holiday season.

Down below, the people cheer and wave: Their king and his lady, the dragon fae, helping them call forth Christmas. Mal glances at them through her dragon eyes, eyes that glimpse so much color and light, and discovers their gazes gleaming. Their gazes speak of admiration and friendship.

Even so, in the spark of their excitement, she glimpses something more. Their footsteps falter. They cling to one another’s hands or arms. Mothers shelter their children, who stare at Mal with mouths open wide. And in the shimmer of their eyes, there is a darker glint. A glint of fear.

The fire in Mal’s throat turns to ice, and she slowly sinks back to the ground, her wings weighted.

The moment her claws click onto the cobblestone, Ben jumps from her back. He is so quick, he slams against a lantern post. “Ouch,” he groans, rubbing his shoulder.

Mal shrinks. Shrinks back into the fairy girl with the leather pants and the leather jacket and the kill-me-now boots that sink into the snow. “So,” she says, scuffing the toe of her boot into snow that is really just dirty ice. 

Ben shoves his hands into his pockets. He does not look at her. He gazes into the distance, perhaps at the holly shimmering green against the darkening sky. “So.”

There’s a chill in the space between them. A chill that sprinkles Mal’s skin in goose bumps, making her shiver. They walk back to Auradon Prep in silence, where Ben excuses himself to take care of kingly duties, and Mal excuses herself to escape to her room, where she curls into a rigid ball atop her window seat, staring at the stars. Millions of balls of fire in a world faraway. A world where fire is accepted and wanted and free.

Deep inside, Mal’s fire kindles. First a glow, and then a spark. It’s alive tonight. Alive in the space within her dragon-heart. She presses her finger to the glass, tracing the patterns of the stars. Imagining herself soaring among them.

Suddenly, a spark of flame flickers onto her fingertip.

She gasps. _What the…?_ She pulls her finger from the glass and stares. There, dancing atop her finger, is a crimson star. 

It’s gotta be her dragon. She’s never created flame while in fae form.

The magic dances upon her skin, as warm as dragon fire. She breathes it in, and tastes smoke and spice. “I really am a freak,” she says, but her words are written in awe. She lifts her finger to the window and traces the stars again. Her crimson star streaks through the darkness, offering up Mal’s magic to the nighttime show.

She’s so lost in the display of her magic that she almost doesn’t notice when her bedroom door swings opened. Evie rushes inside, bundled up in blue, still sheltered from the snow.

Mal sucks in a fiery breath. Without thought, she jerks her hand behind her back.

But Evie’s eyes are wide, stories scrawled across their surface. Stories that speak of wonder and something more, something deeper. “M?” She breathes the word like it is Lucifer prayer.

Mal bites her lip. “Guess I have more magic than I thought,” she whispers. She curls her legs closer to her chest, as if by doing so, she can keep herself guarded.

Evie’s gaze deepens. As if somehow, she is glimpsing not the girl curled into a ball on the windowsill, but the dragon fae who has learned to hide. But unlike the villagers, whose eyes hold something dark when they stare at the dragon-girl, Evie’s brown eyes kindle and light. “Wow.”

Mal releases the breath she’s been holding prisoner. “Really?”

“You just created fire, M.” Evie slips from her jacket and scarf, hangs them on her sewing chair, and then kicks her boots beneath her sewing table. “I think that qualifies as ‘wow’ territory.” She crosses the room to Mal and slides onto the window seat. Her back presses against one wall, Mal’s against the other, and their toes meet in the middle.

There is warmth between the soles of their feet.

Evie nudges Mal’s toes. “Show me.”

Mal’s face heats. “I just did.” After the afternoon with Ben and the people of Auradon, the last thing she needs is more judgment. And even though Evie is gazing at her like she holds the stars in her hands, the very last thing she needs is more judgment from Evie.

Because Evie has always been able to glimpse the girl beyond the curtain. The girl who hides behind tough words and tough fights. The girl who hides.

And tonight, Evie’s gaze is so intense, Mal swears her best friend can see right through her. 

Evie touches Mal’s hand. “Do you really think I’d judge you?”

Mal shrugs. “Everyone else does.”

Evie shakes her head. “You’re amazing, Mal. Just the way you are.” She taps her fingertips against Mal’s hand. “C’mon. Show me your magic.”

Locked in the lightning of Evie’s gaze, Mal melts. With Evie, she is accepted. With Evie, she is free. She breathes in deep and nods. “Okay. But just this once.”

“Just this once,” Evie agrees.

Mal licks the dryness from her lips and lifts her hand. She imagines the stars. Imagines them flickering upon her fingertips, like so many crimson fires. A rush of heat zips through her skin. And one by one, crimson sparks kindle upon her fingers. Five tiny fireballs, casting light across the room. Casting light through Evie’s eyes, turning them into molten gold.

Something about Evie’s gaze makes Mal shiver. Shiver in a warmth that heats her from head to foot. Together, they gaze into each other’s eyes over the crimson of Mal’s starfire.

That night, they fall asleep on the window seat. Evie curls into a comma. And Mal, exhausted from her dragon flight and her new magic, curls into Evie’s arms, warm in a world white with snow.

* * *

Over the next few days, the kingdom transforms. Snow blankets the grounds, glittering so ivory white that Auradon sparkles.

Over the next few days, Mal transforms, too. At night, she sits atop the window seat and turns her fingertips into stars. Ten crimson flames that glimmer when she moves them against the window’s cool glass. Her dragon stirs deep inside her heart, unfurling her wings. She is a dragon fae, and her fire is answering her call.

Evie watches Mal from the doorway of their room, and from the soft silk of her sheets, and from beside Mal on the window seat. Evie’s eyes sparkle at the sight of the flames, and her fingers always seem to find their way to Mal’s skin. She caresses Mal’s shoulder or touches her hand or traces her fingers along Mal’s arm. More than once, she whispers words of encouragement. Things like, “Your fire’s getting stronger,” and “You’re a miracle, M,” and “You’ve found your magic.”

A different kind of magic sparks through Mal’s blood with each of Evie’s touches. And when Evie falls asleep, curled up like a comma within her sheets, Mal cannot help but illuminate her best friend with the fire dancing along her fingertips. In dreams, Evie’s lips pucker and her features soften until they glow.

During the day, a different transformation takes place. Mal shuffles to classes, her footsteps heavy. The curriculum has changed. Auradon is focused on Christmas, and what it means to the people of Mal’s new kingdom.

Unlit candles line the desks in Fairy Godmother’s classroom. Beside them rest boxes of matches. And when Fairy Godmother flutters into the room, she turns off the lights, leaving the students sitting in the dark.

Mal shifts beside Evie, her fingers lingering near Evie’s hand. “Have any idea why we’ve been submerged in darkness?” she asks, her voice dry.

Evie draws in a breath. “Yeah. I have an idea.”

“Which is?”

Evie’s hand twitches. The tips of her fingers touch Mal’s, and then thread into the negative spaces of Mal’s hand. She does not speak, but a warmth spreads between their palms.

Fairy Godmother steps to the front of the classroom, her silhouette just visible in the glimmer of snow falling outside the window. “And on the final day before the barrier arose,” she says, her words rhythmic, ghostlike, “the world was plunged into a darkness caused by the chaos of magic. But King Beast cast out the villainous magic users and restored light to the kingdom, ushering in our first Christmas as the United States of Auradon. We have been a non-magical kingdom ever since.”

The dragon fire in Mal’s heart crystallizes to ice. 

Evie squeezes her hand. “They’re talking about evil magic, M,” she whispers, her voice so low that it caresses Mal’s ear. “Not magic like yours.”

But that’s not true. Mother and the others might have been responsible for the chaos of magic. But King Beast outlawed all magic. Magic like Mal’s.

Fairy Godmother lifts a box of matches from her desk. “As a reminder that Auradon exists in a world of peace, a world without magic, we will conduct our lesson today in a candlelit classroom. Children, light your candles, please.”

Mal’s Evie-less hand trembles beneath her table. If she picks up the box of matches FG has left upon her desk, if she uses them to light her candle, she’ll be perpetuating this age of darkness, this ridiculous belief that magic is evil.

Almost without thought, she lifts her trembling hand from beneath her table. And points her finger toward the candle’s wick. Her dragon stirs, baring her fangs. Roaring to life deep within Mal’s heart. The ice crystals melt, and Mal’s heart flickers with new flame. Flame that springs onto her fingertip, and lights her candle’s wick.

All around, the other students’ candles alight with yellow-orange flame.

But Mal’s candle lights with a crimson star.

Fairy Godmother freezes at the front of the room. In the light of her candle, her mouth forms an “O.” FG’s candlelight flickers, almost going out, and her “O” flat lines into a firm hard press of her lips. 

“She knows, M.” Evie lifts Mal’s hand to her chest, just above her heart, as though in this moment, she is keeping her safe. As though she is saying _I’m here_ and _I’ve got you._

And Mal, who has watched for weeks as the villagers stared at her with darkness in their eyes, who has listened to the darkness clouding the love in Ben’s voice, who has slowly turned cold as the world turned dark, savors the warmth of Evie’s hand, of Evie’s heart beating beneath her skin, and of her own crimson firelight.

Fairy Godmother presses her fingers together, motioning for Mal to quash her flame.

But Mal shakes her head. In this moment, wrapped in the warmth of her own world, she will not give up her magic. She will not put out her flame.

A flash of fury darkens Fairy Godmother’s eyes. But she glances at the students all around the classroom. And her shoulders sag. “As I was saying, class,” she says, returning to her lecture. “The day before Christmas, the world turns dark…”

The rest of class takes place in the yellowish-orange glow of the students’ candlelight. And in the crimson light of Mal’s own magic.

* * *

Mal escapes the classroom before Fairy Godmother can reach her for an after-class chat.

She lingers in the darkness of the school’s upper story, watching from the cool glass of floor-length windows as the world shimmers with diamonds of white. For hours, she is nothing more than a shadow.

When it is night and everyone is asleep, she returns for a moment to her dorm. But Evie is curled into a comma, her lips puckered in dreams. Mal’s skin tingles from the memory of Evie’s heartbeat, pressed against her hand. She longs to close the distance, to curl up in Evie’s arms.

But she cannot.

Because she is a lady of this court.

And Evie is just a friend.

So she escapes into the fierce winter of the night, where the snow billows through the skeletal trees and the stars fail to shine. She stomps across the snowy grounds, crunching the snow beneath her stiletto boots, and freezes at the edge of the lake, where the water has turned to ice.

Her dragon stirs. Deep within Mal’s heart, the creature unfurls her wings, begging for release.

But before Mal can transform, someone else crunches through the snow. Ben steps through the forest of firs, stopping beneath a tree coated with crystals of white.

“Hey,” Mal greets the boy who stands in shadows.

Ben simply stares, his eyes dark in this darkened night. Finally, he clears his throat and takes two steps closer. “When you first came to Auradon,” he says, his voice cracking on the word _Auradon,_ “I thought you were magic. Strong. Beautiful. Artistic.” With each word, he takes a trembling breath. As though he’s fighting something inside. Something similar to the dragon Mal has learned not to fear. Finally, he hangs his head and scuffs the toe of his dress shoe against the dirty floor. “I can’t,” he whispers.

And Mal knows that it’s so much more than fighting his words. He’s fighting himself. He’s fighting the boy inside who has learned that magic is evil and that magic users are villains.

He’s fighting in the same way she’s learned that fighting is futile. She can’t fight herself anymore than he can.

And so she steps through the darkness to stand by his side. And she slides her fingers beneath his chin, lifting his head until she’s gazing into his darkened eyes. “I love you, Ben,” she murmurs.

Ben trembles on a breath. “I love you, too, Mal.”

A lump forms within her throat. She swallows it down and strokes his cool cheek. “It’s not enough. Is it?” _It can’t be._

Ben blinks, his eyes gleaming with moisture. “No.” It is a whisper. It is a death knell.

Mal slides her arms around his back, gathering this boy she loves into a hug. “No matter what, I’ll always think of you as the boy who taught me what love is.”

“No matter what,” Ben says, kissing the top of her head, “I’ll always think of you as the girl who brought magic into my world.”

They stand together in the darkness, saying good-bye to love and hello to maybe-friends.

* * *

Weeks pass at Auradon Prep. The castle transforms, too, until it is as green and red with holly and fir and berries and ornaments as the rest of the kingdom.

Ben and Mal fall into a rhythm, both easy and uneasy. When it is just the two of them, when she is stepping through the halls late at night after a dragon flight in the woods, when he is stepping from his office after a day of hard work, they pause and smile at each other. He waves or she does, and they both laugh uneasy laughs and grin.

Mal continues to transform into a dragon, to patrol the kingdom’s skies.

But when she soars into the skies on dragon wings, roaring her ire at any threat that might face their kingdom, Ben’s eyes darken, as do the eyes of his kingdom. Under the crack of Auradon’s whip, Mal becomes something Other. Something Ben still hasn’t learned how to accept.

Evie and Mal fall into a rhythm, too, both easy and uneasy. When it is just the two of them in their dorm, when Mal is practicing her magic or Evie is sewing a dress, they will gaze at each other through the fire dancing along Mal’s fingertips. Evie’s eyes transform into molten gold, a gold so heated it warms Mal’s dragon-heart. 

But when Evie is asleep, a comma within the sheets, Mal cannot help but watch. A dragon and a princess, separated by the space between. She longs to cross the space. To cuddle into Evie’s arms like the night she did when they slept against a backdrop of stars and snow. But Mal does not know how to step through the space and diminish the between. She does not know how to tell Evie that each time they lock eyes, whether in the dorm or in a class full of students, she feels something more. Something more than the friendship that has always existed between them both, even when she pretended it was simple loathing.

And so the world of easy-uneasy continues up until Christmas Eve. Ben and Mal become something resembling friends. And Evie and Mal teeter on the edge of something Mal cannot name.

On Christmas Evie, the world goes dark. The kingdom shuts off all of its lights. Even the stars fail to shine. The people move together in shadows, their voices dimmed with whispers of excitement. The students walk along a path of snow, which twists ever-outward from the castle to a church, where candles wait to be lit with the fire of matches.

Mal stands at the edge of the path. But cannot bring herself to put her foot down upon it.

Evie turns from a group of their friends, seeking out Mal’s gaze. “You coming, M?” The softness of her voice tells Mal she knows the answer.

“You know I can’t, E.” Her own voice is crafted from sharp edges. Edges that form each time she thinks about abandoning her magic for Auradon law. “It’s not my celebration.”

Evie nods and steps away from their friends. “Then I’m coming with you. We’ll make our own celebration.”

“No.” The word is as cold as the snow falling around Mal’s feet. Because her world isn’t Evie’s. It isn’t anyone’s. And she won’t steal this night from her best friend. “Go with the others. I’ll see you back at the dorms.”

Evie’s gaze deepens. Deepens in the way that tells Mal she has the magic to glimpse her soul. “What if I don’t want to go with the others?”

There’s a challenge in her voice. In the way she crafts her words.

There’s a dare, too. A dare that slips beneath Mal’s skin and sings through her blood, setting it aflame.

Evie crunches through the snow, closer and closer, forging new boot prints along the path. Their friends continue to the church. But Evie joins Mal in the darkness of fir trees, the only light the molten gold shining within her eyes.

“Evie.” Her name is a plea. For what, Mal does not know. For weeks, she’s watched her best friend sleep. For weeks, she’s savored the warmth of her acceptance and the touch of her skin. And when Evie reaches out now to caress her cheek, Mal’s eyes slip closed. _Oh._

Evie smooths her fingertips along Mal’s cheek. “Do you get it yet, M?” Her voice tumbles to a low whisper. “You’re not alone. Because anywhere you are, I want to be there, too.”

Mal opens her eyes to discover Evie standing so close, she can glimpse the fire within her best friend’s eyes. For once, there is no space between. There is the snow, fluttering through the branches of trees. There is the path, stretching outward into the distance. And there is them. Mal and Evie. Evie and Mal.

Mal lifts her hand to Evie’s face. And traces her thumb along her best friend’s lower lip.

Evie shudders on a breath and closes her eyes. “Take me with you.”

“I never left you behind.” In all the discovery, in all the magic, Evie was always right by her side. And all she wants in this darkened world is to pull her closer. So she closes the space. And she places her lips to Evie’s in a cool winter kiss. A kiss that tastes like snow, but warms like fire.

When they part, Evie leans her forehead against Mal’s. “Merry Christmas, M.”

“Merry Christmas, E,” Mal murmurs, breathing her in. She smells like the parchment of books and the sweetness of apples and the coolness of winter air. Everything Evie.

In this world of Them, Evie has accepted her completely. Accepted her as friend and as something More.

So when they next meet gazes, Mal takes a breath and takes a risk. “How about an early Christmas present?”

Evie’s mouth slides into a smirk. “Didn’t I just get one?”

Mal laughs and kisses her again. “I have another.” 

“Then show me.”

Mal slides her hand into Evie’s and guides her toward the lake. And though the world is dark and the forest cold and white with snow, they do not trip. They do not fall.

The lake is ice and the sky is black. But when Mal stands at the edge of ice, the forest turns to purple flame as she transforms. 

Illuminated by Mal’s purple fire, Evie’s features glow. She steps to Mal, her hand outstretched, and traces her fingers along Mal’s dragon skin. There is no hesitation in her touch. No fear. She touches Mal with tenderness, stroking her skin in the same way she strokes Mal’s hand when Mal is fae. “You’re beautiful,” she murmurs, gazing into Mal’s dragon eyes. And then she climbs onto Mal’s back and wraps her arms around Mal’s neck.

Mal’s heart fills with flame, and she roars her happiness into the night. Flapping her wings, she carries them higher and higher into a sky once black. A sky that suddenly sprinkles with the fire of a million stars. A fire Mal adds to as she funnels her flame across its great expanse.

Evie whoops in joy, holding out her arms as though she, too, can fly. And then she wraps those arms back around Mal’s neck, cuddling close. “Teach me how to fly, M.”

 _I already have._ Mal roars again, roars all the feelings soaring through her dragon-heart, and carries her best-friend-turned-more through the Christmas night.


End file.
